by Arjay Lewis
I saw the mourners as I turned, Janice was now being supported by Jack as she wept noisily. There was Denise, Char, the preacher, McGee, many other people I didn’t know. The group seemed to increase after we left the funeral home.
Then I saw him. Standing apart from the group, about twenty or thirty feet away. He was dressed all in black with a long black leather coat—looking like he stepped out of a movie. He wore dark sunglasses, but even at this distance, I recognized him. Roman nose, curly black hair, thin, lithe. But it was more than that. He radiated an energy, it seemed to pour from him.
I turned back to the preacher, and slowly, I tried to move in a way that wouldn’t scare my rabbit. Rabbit, hell, it was more like an ocelot. I moved slowly so he didn’t pounce, edging my way through the crowd until I was next to McGee.
“McGee!” I whispered.
“What?” he said, and bent to put his ear near my mouth.
“There’s someone you should check out. Long coat, twenty feet away, by the grove of trees.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s the guy I saw in my vision.”
McGee returned to his full height and scanned the group. He was wearing mirrored glasses, so I couldn’t tell where his eyes were.
“Where?” he asked.
“Over there,” I said, turning and pointing, keeping my hand close to my body.
“I don’t see anyone,” he said.
I turned quickly to look, and McGee was right. The man with the leather coat was gone.
. . .
The coffin was lowered into its final resting place, and flowers and dirt were dropped in upon it. I looked again and again for the man, but he was nowhere to be found.
Had I really seen him? Or was he merely another vision, a presence I was aware of, but not actually there, like the phantoms I see in haunted houses and funeral homes?
No, this was different, the energy was very strong. I felt him physically there, not just an apparition.
He must have noticed my movement to McGee, which took me several minutes, and left. I’m sure he could move fast, he appeared to be in good shape.
As the funeral ended, I saw McGee walk over to Jack and Janice Hoefler, flash his badge, and step a few feet away with Jack as Janice received hugs and handshakes from the guests.
A few minutes later, Jack returned. His face was ashen, and he appeared quite angry. He quickly went to Janice and led her to their car. She went along meekly.
“You need a ride, Doc?” Denise asked.
I turned to see Denise and Char, waiting for me.
“Oh! Thanks, but I think I have a ride back,” I said with a smile.
Char returned the smile. “Well, you take care, and you can hear me play most nights at the Halfway House.”
“I’ll do that, Char. Take care, Denise,” I said.
“Always do,” she said. Her eyes watched McGee carefully as they headed for the minivan.
I walked over to McGee. “Give a fellow a ride?” I asked.
“This not driving thing of yours is a pain in the ass, Len. What if I was called to a crime scene? You couldn’t walk to Mountainview from here.”
“I’d call a cab. Besides, I might be able to give you more information.”
“What did I tell you about playing detective, Len?” he said as we walked to his unmarked police car and he unlocked the door.
“That’s why I tell you everything, Bill,” I said, getting in the back seat.
As we drove, I brought him up to date on my talk with Denise. Not just the facts of what she’d told me, but what she didn’t want to tell me as well.
“So, the major question is how Wendy went from wanting money to having so much of it,” McGee said.
“And the time line seems to fit the burning down of that building at the shore and the death of her father and stepmother.”
“Interesting. Did you get any feeling about Jack Hoefler? Read his mind?” McGee said, a gentle smile on his face.
“I didn’t get much of anything. I don’t think he’s the murderer, but he’s unhappy about something,” I said. “He looked even more unhappy after he talked to you.”
“I just mentioned I needed to talk to him alone at the police station. He asked why, and I suggested there might be evidence of an affair with his sister-in-law.”
“Very diplomatically, I trust.”
“I was the soul of tact,” McGee said. “But it was his reaction that interested me.”
“He was furious…”
“Yes, and if it weren’t true, wouldn’t he be, I don’t know—surprised, shocked, maybe hurt?”
“That would be most people’s reaction. But he was mad.”
“Right, which says something was going on,” McGee said. “Now, once I get him in interrogation, we might be able to clear things up. But right now, he’s hiding something.”
“Good luck with that,” I said.
“I’ll treat him with kid gloves and let him walk into a trap of his own making. Tell enough lies, and sooner or later, you trip up. I’ll also stop by the Halfway House and talk to this Denise. Maybe a badge will get her to be more forthcoming.”
“I don’t know. You’re male, and she has some serious anger toward men. If you know a policewoman, she might have better luck.”
“Not a bad idea,” he said as we pulled in front of the Baines’s house. “Do me a favor, Len. I appreciate the information—but please, don’t get involved more than you are. I really don’t want to be going to a funeral for your charred corpse.”
“Yes, sir,” I said as I got out of the car and watched McGee drive off.
That was what he didn’t understand. I was already far more involved than I should have been.
JACK’S DIARY: TUESDAY
This morning started off so well. I got out of bed, exited the total darkness of my vault, to look out the tinted glass of my aerie and see a day without a cloud in the sky.
I felt beyond benevolent as I had my breakfast and perused my iPad. I noted that my dear Wendy was having her funeral in the morning.
I thought it would be tacky to show up at the funeral home. After all, I did kill her. But to go out to the graveside, perhaps pretend to visit another grave. I would wait for the crowd of riffraff to leave, then go to her final resting place and say a few poetic words, perhaps a haiku.
I truly am a sensitive soul.
I phoned my driver and arranged a pickup time, then enjoyed my breakfast with my usual relish. Eggs, toast with lots of marmalade, and hot coffee. I prepared them all myself and ate every bite.
I suppose I could get help, a cook or a butler, which would make meals easier. But then again, they would be around, be aware of my comings and goings. As it is, I never see the cleaning staff. They come in and do their work when I am out or asleep. It is better that way. They can stay in awe of their young master.
So, I was in a fine mood as I rode out to the memorial park, even though it was in a seedy part of the state. Well, what of it? Where you stay once you’re dead doesn’t matter. At least there was a place I could visit my lost love if I felt nostalgic.
I had the driver park well away from the rabble and walked until I was in view of the ceremony. Some preacher said words about Wendy. It was all so touching, I could almost feel a tear. Poor Wendy, why did she have to bring this all upon herself?
Then I felt it—felt him. I looked hastily around to try to locate where it was coming from, but none of the group looked in my direction. Then, slowly, he turned.
The goddamn cripple.
I could sense him reach out the same way I do. He actually probed me and then glanced at me, sidelong, as if I didn’t know.
I saw him start to move slowly through the crowd, and I recognized that tall police detective from the jewelry store in the crowd. The crippl
e limped toward him, undoubtedly to tell him I was there.
I moved quickly—I have the reflexes of a cat—and ducked behind trees, then crouched and slid around gravestones until I was well out of sight.
I made my way back to the car, but dammit, I got mud on the knees of my pants. I hopped in the car and ordered the driver to back out of the graveyard, so we wouldn’t go past Wendy’s mourners.
I cleaned my pants with some wipes I make sure are always in the car, but the brown coloring stayed. I would have to change at home and shower again. I breathed deeply to submerge the anger that flared within.
It appears this cripple has some kind of ability, not as powerful as mine, but there. It is possible he could reveal me, take away my precious anonymity.
This was unplanned. I have no wish to reveal myself to the world.My abilities are best used in the background. The choice must be to get the insurance money and leave town. Perhaps return to the Bahamas? I may have to call in money from some of my other sources.
I knew I didn’t like the cripple, but now he is more trouble than he’s worth. Who does he think he is playing with?
I will consider my next steps with care.
thirteen
With the afternoon free, I decided to walk into town. There was nothing I needed to buy, but I wanted to do something physical to get out of myself a bit.
I walked to a small park that wrapped around a lake with a majestic bit of statuary rising from the center, and sat on a bench. I closed my eyes and relaxed, putting myself into a light trance. I hadn’t been regular with my meditation since I arrived. I would change that starting today. I needed to keep my mind sharp.
After twenty minutes, I opened my eyes and rose from the bench. I felt very relaxed, and the chatter of my own thoughts and any around me had been quieted.
I walked toward the center of town. I felt light, as if my body weighed nothing. It was just a pleasure to put one foot in front of the other as my cane pushed me along. As I got closer to town, my eye became focused on a particular building which bore large letters reading “Associated Insurance” in a fanciful logo that intertwined the A with the I.
I must go there…
I found myself headed toward the building, aware that this was where Jenny worked. Bad enough I had the hots for her, now I was stalking her at work. But that was my rational mind, and my instincts told me to keep going.
Another twenty minutes, and I was at the security desk. I signed my name on a page as they phoned Mrs. Baines. I was given an adhesive “Visitor” patch and told to go to the tenth floor.
As I rode the elevator up, I had the oddest sensation, as if I was part of a play, and that I was making my entrance just a moment later than I was supposed to.
I walked into the tenth-floor lobby and approached a woman at a desk.
“Jenny Baines, please,” I said.
“She’s right there, sir,” the bespectacled woman said, pointing at Jenny as she walked down the hall toward us.
“Jenny!” I said.
“Lenny? I got the call you were coming up. Isn’t that the oddest thing? The lawyer from the Nova Corporation just left.”
A chill went up my spine. “Was it Jack Hoefler?”
“No, I got the name wrong, it’s Hallman—Jack Hallman. He just left.”
I looked over at the elevators. “What did he look like?”
“It’s weird. He was dressed all in black, with a big leather coat and sunglasses.”
“Which window faces the entrance?” I asked frantically as I pointed at the walls of glass on either side.
“That one,” Jenny said, pointing to my right. “But what does—”
Before she could finish, I moved quickly toward the glass wall and wove my way past a few cubicles until I arrived at a place with an unobstructed view. Jenny followed me as I went to the glass and stared down to see a figure in a black leather coat turn the corner.
“I missed him,” I said, leaning against the wall of a cubicle.
“What are you doing?” puffed Jenny, who now was breathing hard as she tried to keep up with me.
“This man, this Jack—he was at the funeral this morning,” I said in hushed tones. “What did he want?”
“He came in with an affidavit, making a claim on the insurance money from Mishan’s store,” she said and opened one of the files in her arms. “I was about to copy the paperwork for Detective McGee.”
“What did you tell him?” I asked.
“The truth. That it was still under investigation, and I couldn’t release funds until the inquest was completed. Then for a kicker, I told him that there were questions about his corporate papers.”
“What did he do?”
“He got angry, but I told him that if he wasn’t polite, I could make it more difficult to get his money,” Jenny said, her chin jutting out sternly. “That shut him up. I mean he was really strange, and he never took off those sunglasses…”
“Jenny, if you make a copy of the affidavit, I’ll take it right to McGee,” I said, and took her arm protectively. “And listen to me, you are never, never, to see that man alone.”
She smiled and extracted herself from my grasp. “Calm down, Lenny. I can handle guys like him. It comes with the territory. Come on, you can help me make copies.”
I followed her into a small vestibule with a large copy machine. She was all sweetness, and asked me about the funeral. I couldn’t get past the fact that she’d been alone with that creature. She didn’t understand how dangerous he was, even in an office filled with people. The only saving grace was that he still needed her for the money. But if he felt that dealing with a replacement would be easier…
I stood nearby as she finished running the papers through the machine, then she handed me four or five sheets.
“I really should do this through channels,” she said. “But I do want Detective McGee to have them quickly.”
“Anything in particular I should point out?”
“Yes, the paper is signed by one of the names McGee claimed was faked,” Jenny said, as she pointed to a signature at the bottom. “But it says that he’s a resident of the Bahamas, which may have been misleading when McGee tried to track down names.”
“So, McGee might be able to find this guy in the Bahamas?” I said.
“I don’t know, Lenny,” Jenny said and took a look at the original. “It just lists him as a citizen of the Bahamas. He could be right here in New Jersey.”
“What is his name?” I asked, studying my copy of the affidavit.
“John Gingold,” she said at the exact same moment I saw his signature on the bottom of the paper.
A flash of recognition ran through me, yet it was a name I’d never heard before. His signature, even on the copy I held, seemed to glow, as if a highlighter had been used on the round, firm script that clearly spelled his name.
“Gingold,” I repeated, staring at the handwriting as if mesmerized.
“Are you going to stand here all day or take the papers to the police?” Jenny said.
I jumped as if shocked. “O-of course,” I said, and pulled the papers together before heading for the elevator.
“So, now you know where I work, maybe you can meet me for lunch,” Jenny said.
“That might be nice,” I said, but my mind was elsewhere.
John Gingold. Why does that sound so familiar?
“See you later,” Jenny said as I pushed the button for the elevator.
I waved and mumbled something incoherent as Jenny walked away purposefully. I waited, and found my gaze again returned to the signature. The door opened, and I rode down to the first floor, then left the building in the direction of the Mountainview police station.
It took about a half-hour, but I got there, relieved to see that Tice wasn’t at the front desk. Instead, there was
a heavyset man with white hair and a dark gray moustache. He was in uniform, and his eyes carried heavy bags under them.
“Detective-Sergeant McGee, is he available?” I asked.
“He’s with a witness, can’t be disturbed,” the desk sergeant answered. He did not look up from the paperwork piled in front of him.
“Can I leave something for him?”
“As long as it ain’t a letter bomb,” the sergeant said, deadpan.
“Do you have an envelope?”
The sergeant met my eyes. “Yeah, I guess,” he said and opened several desk drawers until he pulled out a stained number ten envelope. He held it out and looked hard at me.
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” he said.
“I’m doing some…research for Detective McGee,” I said, attempting a new lie. “I’m from Garden State University.”
“Oh?” he said, leaning back in his chair. “’Bout time you academics did something for us for a change.”
He began a tirade about how much the police did for the university, with little appreciation or help. I stood there and nodded my head like one of those toy dogs people put in the back window of their cars.
As I placed papers in the envelope, I looked for a break in the officer’s one-sided conversation where I could make a run for it—well, a quick limp away at best.
At that moment, I saw ape-man Jack Hoefler as he walked from the back and made his way for the door without noticing me. Behind him, McGee followed his egress. He saw me and raised a hand as he approached.
“Not to mention the end of the year, when we have to keep a watch on the graduation parties…” the sergeant was saying.
“Tony, are you blaming Doctor Wise for everything wrong with this town?” McGee interrupted.
“He said he’s from the college…” Tony said, a bit surprised.
“I don’t think he has the dean’s ear,” McGee said.
Just the associate dean, I thought. I kept it to myself to avoid him going off again.